


Roughing It

by thistle_verse



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Making Out, Making Up, Vacations Gone Awry, Warning: Hipsters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-09-06 18:44:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8764696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thistle_verse/pseuds/thistle_verse
Summary: In which Harry tries to book a rustic romantic getaway, and Draco is extremely unimpressed.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Holidays, fantasyfiend09!!

The brochure had said— **Rustic Charm— Come Glamp It In Style!**

Harry looks at the cabin, and decides then and there that he’s never going to trust the advertising for anything, ever again. He should have come and looked at the place first, he should have made the time to make sure it was right for—

“This is where you’ve brought me for a romantic getaway,” comes a voice behind him, and Harry cringes. “This— _shack_ ,” Draco finishes. Harry turns, apologies already forming on his lips, but his boyfriend of a few years doesn’t let him get a word in. 

“No,” Draco says. “No, this is a perfect metaphor for every trouble we have right now. I tell you we need to spend some time alone to reconnect, and you bring me to a hovel.”

“It’s not a hovel,” Harry says automatically. “It’s just a very rustic cabin. We’re, you know— roughing it. Apparently.”

Draco raises one blonde eyebrow. “What have I ever said or done to make you think I might enjoy ‘ _roughing_ it?’”

“Well,” Harry tries weakly, “you liked it when I got a bit rough a few weeks ago.”

Draco doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t even smile. He moves past Harry with his bag slung over his shoulder and he picks his way up the crooked steps to the door of the cabin. When he turns the knob and pulls the door open, one of the hinges pops off the frame, and the entire thing lists pathetically to the side. Draco just shoots him a suffering look and leaves it like that for Harry to figure out.

 

///

 

This is the thing: he and Draco never needed to schedule time to be romantic before. When they’d first gotten together, they hadn’t even called it romance. It was a one-off, and then something they did in secret because anything else was too complicated. When they started dating officially, and then moved in together, even the everyday stuff felt new and weirdly exciting, because they were doing it together. 

Draco used to steal kisses when he passed Harry on the way to the kettle before work, sleepy morning breath and all. Now, for the past few months, they barely managed to nod at each other as they rushed out the door.

Sometimes Harry thinks he’s good at loving Draco, but rubbish at finding the right way to show it.

 

///

 

Harry treks over to the manager’s building to see if there’s a better cabin available. The man behind the desk is wearing his hair in a large bun on top of his head, and his beard is braided with tiny purple beads shaped liked stars. 

“Nah, man,” he says. “You got the last one.”

“It’s just that it’s a little more… basic than the brochure said it’d be,” Harry tries. The man just looks at him. “It’s rather rundown, is all I’m saying, and—“

“These cabins are _authentic_ ,” Man-Bun tells him earnestly. “It’s not about the trappings, it’s about the experience.”

“Yes, well my boyfriend would prefer a more comfortable experience, and I really—“

“I’ll send over some artisanal coffee beans,” Man-Bun promises, and Harry gives up. 

 

///

 

“I think the hipsters have infiltrated wizarding society,” Harry announces when he gets back. Draco is sitting stiffly on the end of the nubby orange sofa and flipping through some paperwork. “Draco, we said no work!”

Draco sighs, and throws the folder back toward his bag. The pages spill out onto the dusty floor. “We said a lot of things. I recall promises of long baths and lying around in bed. Have you looked back in the bedroom yet? I’m not sure both of us can even fit on that mattress at the same time.”

“Can’t you make the best of this?” Harry asks, frustrated. “Can’t we just have a laugh, and enjoy ourselves anyway? You are so high maintenance.”

“Oh, I see. Yes, asking you to plan a weekend we would both enjoy is so high maintenance of me,” Draco says, standing up.

Harry squeezes his eyes shut and rubs at his temples. “I didn’t mean it like that.“

“I’m going for a walk,” Draco says, wrenching open the crooked door. “Perhaps I’ll be eaten by a bear while I’m out, and all this suffering will be ended.”

 

///

 

The thing is, there is never a time when Harry doesn’t want Draco. He _craves_ him, can never get enough of his sharp, wicked smile or the way he’ll look at Harry from the corner of his eye right before he kisses him. If Draco knew how often Harry thinks about him throughout the day, every day, he’d never doubt what Harry felt at all.

 

///

 

When Draco returns, Harry already has a batch of gingersnaps baking— Draco’s favorite. The oven hadn’t worked when he turned it on, of course, but then Harry had remembered that he was a wizard, and he’d used his wand to get it to temperature. He’d also done some quick cleaning spells and fashioned some twinkly lights. 

“I’m sorry it didn’t seem like I was listening to you,” Harry says, and Draco pauses in the middle of removing his coat. “This place looked a lot nicer on the brochure, but it’s my fault for not checking it out. I was just so busy at work. That’s no excuse, I know, but—“

“Harry, stop,” Draco says. He gets his coat off and hangs it up on one of the weird metal hooks by the door. “I’m sorry, too. It’s like I can hear myself being a dick about everything sometimes, but I can’t stop.”

“Well,” Harry says, “fortunately for you, I like you even when you’re a dick.”

Draco stands on the other side of the table and scoops up a bit of dough on his finger. “I think you mean you love my dick.”

Harry throws a bit of flour at him, and Draco blinks in surprise when it flies all over his face and chest. “I love _you_ ,” Harry corrects him, and Draco’s face goes all warm and soft like it only does for Harry, when they’re alone together. 

 

///

 

“You know how you hear about people getting into ruts,” Draco is saying over their third mug of mulled wine a piece. “And one of them has an affair, and then it’s all just a spiral of misery from there?”

“Merlin, Draco,” mutters Harry. “Why would you be thinking about that?”

“I don’t know.” Draco leans forward, the sofa creaking ominously underneath them, and brushes his thumb over Harry’s bottom lip. “I just worry, I guess.”

“You don’t need to,” Harry says, and he opens his mouth and closes his teeth around the rough pad of skin there. He can hear Draco take an uneven breath. “There’s no one but you for me.”

“Harry,” Draco whispers, his body continuing to fall forward into him, and he takes his thumb away to replace it with his mouth. Harry licks his way in, and pulls Draco all the way into his lap. It’s dark all around them, only the low glow of the fairy lights revealing them to each other. Under his sweater, Draco’s skin is warm and he pulls his face away when Harry moves his fingers down under the waistband of his trousers. He bites Harry’s neck as Harry wraps a hand around his cock, and they’ve done this a hundred times, but it still feels new, and urgent. 

“Maybe that bed doesn’t need to be any bigger,” Draco breathes into his ear, hot and damp. Harry’s hand is still sliding up and down his heated skin, and Draco’s hips are twitching and rocking on his lap. He nips at Harry’s lip again. 

“Yeah?” he says, breathing hard. Wanting more. Always wanting more.

Draco goes in for another sloppy kiss, and then says, “I just want to be on top of you, anyway.”

“What the hell are we waiting for then?” Harry asks, and Draco grins.

 

///

 

“You’ve got some flour in your hair,” Harry says later, as they’re lying tucked up against each other. Draco braces his arm on the wall beside him so he doesn’t fall off the bed, and turns in Harry’s arms.

“Whose fault is that?” he grumbles. 

“Mine.” Harry stretches his legs out, feet knocking into the bed post. He winces. “It’s always all my fault.”

“Don’t you forget it,” Draco murmurs. 

 

///

 

“The shower was like ice,” Harry tells Man-Bun the next afternoon, as he and Draco check out. 

“Invigorating,” Man-Bun says. “A shock to your senses, waking you up to the potential of a new day.”

“Actually, it was just really fucking cold,” drawls Draco. “But I did manage to enjoy your sofa.”

Man-Bun hands them a new brochure with their receipt. **Find Yourself In Our Vintage Cabins— Live Your Best Life!** When they walk out, Draco throws it to the ground and sets in on fire with his wand. 

“I feel more authentic already,” he says, and wraps his arm around Harry to apparate them home.


End file.
